The Witch with the Trident Tattoo: The Coastal Coven, #1

By Diana McCollum

Can a Navy SEAL and a sea witch believe in each other enough to save their seas?

To the world at large, Ella Stone is a marine scientist, working to understand and preserve the oceans.

But she's also a gifted sea witch, born with an affinity for water and the ability to speak with sea creatures. To guard her secrets, she keeps to herself and trusts no one.

Noah Drago is a commercial fisherman. He's also an ex-Navy SEAL who's seen and done things that left scars on his body and soul. Now he keeps to himself and trusts no one.

But when Noah accidentally discovers the sexy scientist who hired him is much more than she seems, her secrets rock his world like a storm at sea, and soon he finds himself diving into a world of myth, magick and passion.

Can the two loners break through old seawalls and trust each other? And if so, will their growing love and all Ella's magick be enough to save them and their precious ocean from an encroaching evil bent on destroying all marine life?

Dive into the perilous sea with Ella and Noah–get your copy of this enchanting novella today!

Hettie and Evan's story,  The Crystal Witch, follows the novella in this volume.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Windtree Press
• Release date: Aug 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781942368014

Diana McCollum

A lifetime avid reader, I  love creating worlds where anything is possible. Always with an element of the paranormal my stories end with a happily-ever-after. I live in Central Oregon, a very short drive to the Cascade Mountains in one direction, and a short drive to the desert in the other direction..  If you enjoyed Ella and Evan’s story please leave a review where you bought the book. Writers like to know what you like, and don’t like about their stories. I am in an anthology of short stories “Love & Magick”, with two other authors. My first witch story “The Crystal Witch” is in the anthology. Check it out and discover two more really good authors. You can reach me at the following places: Website:  dianamccollum.weebly.com  ( sign up for my newsletter, monthly recipes, contests, raffles etc.) Faebook: https://facebook.com/dianamccollumauthor/ Twitter: @Dianasuemcc

Book preview

Dedication

To Family, to friends, and to the Bend writers,

Thank you for your support!

And to Jacques Cousteau, whose fabulous documentaries on the seas were my introduction to the beauty found in the depth of the oceans.

"The sea, once it casts its spell,

holds one in its net of wonder forever."

-Jacques Cousteau-

Chapter One

The town meeting last night had left a bitter taste of disappointment in Ella Stone’s mouth. She had tried to convince the upstanding citizens of Waxing, Massachusetts the importance of suspending fishing for twenty square miles off the coast, and inland to Turtle Point and the beach in town. She also suggested no swimming for a couple of weeks while she researched the unknown carbon-based matter depleting the nutrients necessary for sea life to be sustainable. They had rejected her proposal and it had stung, and still stung.

The fishermen needed to make a living, she understood. If they continued to fish and toxic organic matter continued to grow, fisheries would be depleted in a short time. Not to mention she couldn’t be sure if the organic material was toxic to humans or not, it was too early in her research to tell.

Arriving for her Saturday shift at her friend Hettie’s gift shop, The Crystal Witch, Ella seethed with fury. Her pulse beat a fast tempo, sending an edgy, twitchy feeling over her skin. She marched down the aisle of scented soaps and candles toward the back of the store, as sparks of pent-up Magick flew off her. Wicks on the table of colorful display candles burst into flames as soon as she passed. She breezed by the rack of wind chimes and they tinkled and rattled as if a gust of wind blew through the store when none did.

Ella, what’s the matter? Hettie Wynn stood in the office doorway, hands wrapped around a cup of coffee.

Ella handed the local newspaper, Lighthouse News, to Hettie. The meeting last night was a bust. Apparently, I am a crazy woman scientist who doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Wait, no—‘environmental whacko’ is what they said.

I’ve got a degree in marine biology and oceanography from Salem State University. I’ve studied under some of the most prestigious professors, and they call me an ‘environmental whacko’? Ella removed her sunglasses and used the edge of her sweater to clean the lenses.

Did you present your findings in terms they could understand? Hettie reached out and steadied the wind chime rack.

Ella walked over and blew out candles one by one. In so doing, she blew sample herbal powder out of the display bowl and covered the floor in many colors of powder. She harrumphed at her blunder and crossed her arms. Sorry for being in such a dither, but you know what I’m up against.

Poseidon.

Yes! He wants answers, and only from me. ‘What happens in the ocean is a matter for the realm to manage. I’m depending on you to find the answer. Do not involve the human governments.’ He’s such a pretentious monarch, always playing games with me. Unshed tears of frustration threatened to spill over.

"These waters have been in the care of my family since my ancestors first stepped on shore at Plymouth. There’s never been anything of this magnitude, anything capable of destroying marine plant and animal life to this degree. Whatever has damaged the flora and fauna hasn’t reached the shore, but I’m concerned because it’s just a matter of time till it does. I’ve named the toxin Razor Toxic Bloom-RTB-1, and it is spreading past the outer banks toward Waxing."

Ella stalked over to the screened back door. A slice of the ocean was visible from here, sandwiched between two cottages across the alley, an early May breeze blew across her face. Something was invading the waters of her ocean. Her mother before her had been the sea witch in charge of taking care of these coastal waters. Ella had inherited the position when her mother and father were called by Poseidon to protect the Bering Sea. Time is of the essence. Poseidon doesn’t want government agencies involved, or other marine biologists. He’s got his reasons for believing an immortal is responsible. This problem is for me to solve and time is running out. Whatever RTB-1 is will reach our shore eventually, if not stopped.

She crossed her arms over her chest and turned back to Hettie. Commercial fishermen protested the loudest, and I understand fishing is their livelihood. But if fish are unhealthy, should anyone be eating them? All the mothers agreed to not let their kids swim or wade for two weeks.

Do you think you can find an answer by then?

I don’t know. I hope so. Her stomach clenched. Do you think what’s happening in the ocean is something our coven should look into?

Hettie walked closer and put her arm around Ella. I think you need to call on your resources. You are a Sea Witch, none of us are. We can help you on land, but water is your domain. Have you contacted James? Or Mischell? Maybe one of them could do some investigating for you?

You’re right. Of course, I’ll contact James. A fluttering in her chest made her realize she wasn’t alone. She had her familiar, James the octopus—the Coastal Coven and her laboratory. She’d find the answer.

Can I take an early break and contact James? I need him to start working on this problem right away.

Of course. Hettie smiled and patted Ella on the arm. Take all the time you need. I have a few errands to run, but they can wait.

TEN MINUTES LATER SEATED on a rock at the seashore, Ella faced the ocean a light gust of air blew her hair back off her face. Eyes closed she opened her senses up. She could only hope the giant octopus was close to shore and would hear her telepathic call. His den was near a barren island, Razor Island, a few miles off the coast.

James!

Hard to tell what the fellow had been up to last night. He could very well be curled up in his den sound asleep.

James!

Ella my love, I’m off the end of Turtle Point.

She shaded her eyes against the morning sun and looked toward Turtle Point some three hundred yards away.

Do you see me, darling? I’m waving number three of my tentacles, one and two are sadly sore from moving rocks around to better conceal the path to my dwelling.

Four feet or so of his tentacle popped up out of the water, retreated and popped up again.

Yes, yes I see you. Listen, Poseidon contacted me and I have two weeks to find out what is destroying marine and plant life out near Razor Island. The spread of devastation is growing. Would you play detective and see what all you can find out?

But of course my darling, ah-h-h, a secret agent. I’m excited. No, no, I’m ecstatic. No still not right. Hmm, what am I? Exhilarated that’s what I am! You’re James Bond of the ocean, at your service, my dear.

Ella laughed out loud. Thanks, Mr. Bond! I’ll be in touch.

I HAVE TO MAKE A BANK deposit. Would you mind the store till I get back? Hettie slipped into her green jacket. The color popped against her long, curly raven hair. Promise I’ll bring sweet rolls from Seaside Bakery.

No problem. I’ll tidy up those candles I set on fire and clean up the powder. I’m sorry for that. Ella pulled her hair over her left shoulder and proceeded to braid it.

Don’t worry. It’s nothing that can’t be cleaned. Hettie waved on her way out the back door.

Ella brought the broom and dustpan from the utility room and began sweeping up powder. She hitched her long skirt up and squatted down to better see the fine particles under the table. The bell over the door rang. I’ll be with you in a minute, she said, finishing her task. Heavy steps on the wooden floor stopped short of where she worked.

As she struggled to rise, a strong hand lifted her up by her elbow. She turned around "Thank...You!" She jerked her arm out of his grasp, spilling half the contents of the dustpan. He was the tall, darkly-handsome fisherman from last night’s meeting.

His brown eyes, set in an angular face, narrowed. A swath of black curls fell casually onto his forehead. Definitely handsome in a rugged sort of earthy way, she guessed maybe thirty-five years old.

Well, if it isn’t the lady scientist. His words were cool and clear as ice water. He looked her up and down, his eyes sharp and assessing.

From his close scrutiny, heat rose up her neck. What are you doing here? What indeed? Noah Drago had been quite outspoken at the meeting the previous evening. And she understood he hadn’t fished at all since losing his boat in a raging storm last month. Logically she realized he’d be feeling the pinch of no income. Still, her request was not unreasonable.

I’m here to buy a gift for my aunt. Is Hettie here? He glanced around the store.

You’ll have to deal with me. Hettie stepped out for a bit. She lifted her chin, the better to see his face. He was so tall and stood so close. He smelled of the ocean, all salt and sea breeze.

So you work here? He made a slight gesture, his right hand encompassing the store.

Part-time, on weekends, gets me out of my lab. She carried the dustpan to the back and dumped the contents in the garbage, stashed the broom and pan in the utility room. She turned in the doorway and ran into his firm chest. Placing her hands on his chest she pushed. Personal space, back off.

He swung his wide shoulders to the side, allowing her room to pass, and then followed her to the counter. He retrieved a toothpick from his pocket and stuck it between his lips. A real scientist wouldn’t be working in a gift shop.

She was glad for the glass countertop separating them so she could breathe. "Really? Are we going to have this conversation now? I work here because I can get out of my lab and around friends and I enjoy the interaction with clients. She looked pointedly at him. Most customers. She crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to stay calm. I don’t want to neglect my friends because I value them."

His face turned ashen.

Aha, she struck a nerve. What’s wrong, Mr. Drago? Do you fish so much you don’t have time for any buddies? Last I knew you did not have a boat. The words were out before she could stop them. About the same time she remembered he had lost his boat and mate last month to a rogue wave.

He turned on his heel and stomped out the door.

She sucked in a breath and watched the burly fisherman leave. She sighed. Today wasn’t the first time she had spoken without thinking. Regretting her childish response, she picked up a feather duster and went on the hunt for dust bunnies, annoying little creatures. She didn’t like dealing with confrontation; this was one of the reasons she preferred the solitude of her lab for most of the week.

NOAH STORMED OUT OF the gift shop. Arguing was time-consuming and pointless. The soft-spoken scientist from last night’s meeting had a temper. When he walked into Hettie’s gift shop he had been in a good mood. Buying a gift for Aunt Delores was a good thing. She had survived another bout of cancer treatment and was planning her wedding.

The slender woman stooping to clean up a spill, her silvery Blonde braid hanging down to her tiny waist, was a picture to behold. He couldn’t believe his eyes when she turned around and she was the environmental nut from last night’s meeting.

Up close he could see she was pretty, sea-green eyes, porcelain skin and around his age, thirty-five. She topped out at five feet three inches and she was svelte. Another time he might be inclined to pursue her, not now.

She had no idea how a ban on fishing would affect their small community. Or she knew, but didn’t care.

He didn’t even know her name, damn. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Blew that one! He ran a hand through his hair and then started walking toward the harbor.

Noah stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. He wrapped his fingers around the chain attached to the St. Christopher medallion Bruce, his first mate, and friend, had given him the day before a rogue wave hit their fishing vessel. Taking the medallion out of his pocket, he slipped the chain over his head and the medal under his shirt. The warm medallion nestled against his chest, a constant reminder of his friend, and the harshness of the ocean.

The harbor seals barking and gulls screeching overhead admonished him to start fishing again. His new boat, The Mystic Mermaid, had arrived last week and had yet to make her maiden voyage. She was sleek, clean and sparkly, and he couldn’t wait to take her fishing. He missed Lure of the C, his old boat, it had character, but he didn’t miss the high maintenance cost. He had recently christened her the Money Pit of the C.

The insurance check for reimbursement had covered most of his cost for the new boat, leaving him a manageable monthly payment. Manageable if he was working. There was the rainy day fund he’d set up through his credit union it would help, but he needed to fish to make a sustainable living. Sea grass swayed in the gentle breeze softening the dunes and edging the path he trod. He reached the dock and headed down to where the Mystic Mermaid was moored.

Ahoy, mate, like your new vessel. Oscar Aldrich, brawny old captain of the fishing vessel Red Moon, waved from his boat, docked across from the Mystic Mermaid’s slip.

Hey, Oscar, what’s new? The grizzled old sea captain held a special place in Noah’s heart. Oscar had stepped up and offered Noah a job until his insurance money came through.

Oscar chewed on his cigar before answering, Pulled half a load of Mackerel yesterday. Couldn’t convince Portuguese Joe to buy them after the meeting last night, hauled my load down the coast to sell. He raised his hat and scratched his gray wiry hair. Didn’t matter to Joe I fished up the coast away from the area Ella told us about. She’s a top notch gal and I don’t think she’d make statements to dissuade us from fishing unless she had proof to back up what she was saying. His gray eyebrows knitted together to form a solid line. You thinking of going out?

Thinking I might. Noah jumped on deck, unlocked the cabin door and secured the hook to an outside eye. Probably sleep on it a night or two yet. Thinking of fishing without Bruce, his first mate,